Homilies on the Gospel of Matthew 31.1–32.1

“While he was saying these things to them, behold, a ruler came in and knelt before him, saying, ‘My daughter has just died; but come and lay your hand on her, and she will live.’” The deed followed close upon the words, so that the Pharisees were silenced still more. For the one who came was a ruler of the synagogue, and the grief was terrible. For the child was an only child, and twelve years old, in the very flower of her age; which is especially why he raised her at once. And if Luke says that people came saying, “Do not trouble the Teacher, for she is dead,” we will say this: that the words “has just died” were those of a man guessing from the time of the journey, or magnifying the calamity. For it is the custom of those who make requests to exaggerate their own troubles in speech and to say something more than the facts, so as to draw those they entreat the more. But see his dullness. For he asks two things of Christ: both that he come in person and that he lay his hand on her; which was a sign that he had left her still breathing. This the Syrian Naaman too demanded of the prophet. For “I thought,” he says, “that he would come out and lay his hand on me.” For those who are rather dully disposed need sight and things perceptible to the senses. And Mark says that he took the three disciples, and Luke too; but this evangelist simply says “the disciples.” Why then did he not take Matthew, though he had just come to him? To put him into greater longing, and because he was still rather imperfectly disposed. For this is why he honors those, that this man may become like them. For him it was enough for the time to see the things concerning the woman with the flow of blood, and to be honored with the table and with the sharing of salt. And when he rose, many followed him, as to a great miracle, both because of the person who had come and because most, being rather dully disposed, sought not so much care for the soul as healing for the body; and they flocked together, some driven by their own sufferings, others eager to become spectators of the correction of others; but those who resorted to him chiefly for the sake of words and teaching were as yet few. He did not, however, let them enter the house, but only the disciples, and not even all of these, everywhere teaching us to push away the glory that comes from the many. “And behold,” it says, “a woman who had had a flow of blood for twelve years came up behind him and touched the fringe of his garment. For she said within herself, ‘If I only touch his garment, I shall be made well.’” Why did she not come to him with boldness? She was ashamed because of her suffering, thinking herself unclean. For if a woman in her monthly period was not thought clean, much more would one with such a disease have thought this; for under the law the suffering was thought to be a great uncleanness. That is why she hides and conceals herself. For not even she yet had the fitting and perfect opinion about him; otherwise she would not have thought to escape notice. And this woman is the first to come publicly; for she had heard that he heals women too, and that he was going to the little girl who had died. And she did not dare call him to her house, although she was well off; nor did she come publicly, but secretly with faith she touched his garments. For she did not doubt, nor say within herself, “Shall I be freed from the disease or shall I not?”, but came thus, confident of her health. For she said within herself, it says, “If I only touch his garment, I shall be made well.” For she saw from what sort of house he had come out, the house of the tax collectors, and who were those following him, sinners and tax collectors; and all this made her hopeful. What then does Christ do? He did not let her escape notice, but brings her into the open and makes her known, for many reasons. And yet some of the unfeeling say that he does this out of love of glory. “Why,” they say, “did he not let her escape notice?” What are you saying, abominable man? He who commands silence, he who passes over countless miracles, does he love glory? Why then does he bring her into the open? First, he frees the woman from her fear, so that she might not, pricked by her conscience as though she had stolen the gift, live in anguish. Second, he corrects her, since she thought she was escaping notice. Third, he displays her faith to all, so that the others too might emulate it; and he gives a sign no less than stopping the fountains of blood, by showing that he knows everything. Then, the ruler of the synagogue, who was about to disbelieve and by this to ruin everything, he sets right through the woman. For those who came said, “Do not trouble the Teacher, for the girl is dead”; and those in the house laughed at him when he said that she was asleep; and it was likely that the father too had felt something of the kind.

That is why, correcting this weakness beforehand, he brings the woman into the open. For that he was one of the very dull, hear what he says to him: “Do not fear; only believe, and she will be saved.” For he deliberately waited for death to come, and then arrived, so that the proof of the resurrection might be clear. That is why he walks more slowly too, and talks longer with the woman, so as to let the girl die, and so that those who reported these things might come and say, “Do not trouble the Teacher.” This the evangelist too hints at and points out, saying, “While he was still speaking, people came from the house, saying, ‘Your daughter is dead; do not trouble the Teacher.’” For he wished the death to be believed, so that the resurrection might not be suspected. And he does this everywhere. So too with Lazarus, he stayed one day and a second and a third. For all these reasons, then, he brings her into the open and says, “Take heart, daughter”; as he also said to the paralytic, “Take heart, child.” For the woman was afraid; that is why he says, “Take heart,” and calls her daughter; for her faith made her a daughter. Then the praise too: “Your faith has made you well.” And Luke tells us still more about the woman. For when she had come, he says, and received her health, Christ did not call her at once, but first says, “Who is it that touched me?” Then, when Peter and those with him said, “Master, the crowds are pressing and crushing you, and you say, ‘Who touched me?’” (which was a very great sign both that he wore true flesh and that he trampled on all pride; for they were not following at a distance, but pressed upon him on every side), he persisted, it says, saying, “Someone touched me; for I perceived power going out from me,” answering rather plainly according to the thought of the hearers. And he said these things so as to persuade her to confess of her own accord. For this is why he did not convict her at once, so that, having shown that he knew everything clearly, he might persuade her of her own accord to tell everything, and prepare her to proclaim herself what had happened, and so that he might not, by speaking himself, seem to be suspect. Did you see the woman better than the ruler of the synagogue? She did not hold him, she did not seize him, but only touched him with the tips of her fingers, and though she came later, she went away healed first. And he drew the whole physician into his house, but for her a touch alone was enough. For though she was bound by her suffering, she was given wings by her faith. But see how he consoles her, saying, “Your faith has made you well.” And yet if he had drawn her into the open for display, he would not have added this; but he says these things at once teaching the ruler of the synagogue to believe, proclaiming the woman, and giving her by these words no less pleasure and benefit than the health of her body. For that he did these things wishing to glorify her and to correct others, and not to make himself illustrious, is clear from this. For he himself was going to be equally wonderful even without this (for miracles poured round him thicker than snowflakes, and he had done and was going to do far greater things than this); but the woman, had this not happened, would have gone away unnoticed, deprived of these great praises. That is why, bringing her into the open, he proclaimed her, and cast out her fear (for she came trembling, it says), and made her take heart, and along with the health of her body gave her other provisions for the road too, saying, “Go in peace.” “And when he came to the ruler’s house and saw the flute players and the crowd making a tumult, he said, ‘Go away; for the girl is not dead but asleep.’ And they laughed at him.” Fine tokens of the rulers of the synagogue: at a death, flutes and cymbals stirring up lamentation! What then does Christ do? He put all the others out but brought in the parents, so that it could not be said that he healed in some other way; and before the raising he raises her by his word, saying, “The girl is not dead but asleep.” And he does this in many places. Just as on the sea he first rebukes the disciples, so here too he casts the tumult out of the minds of those present, at the same time showing that it is easy for him to raise the dead (which he did also with Lazarus, saying, “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep”), and at the same time teaching them not to fear death; for it is not death, but has become sleep from now on. For since he himself too was going to die, in the bodies of others he prepares the disciples beforehand to be of good courage and to bear death gently. For when he had come, death was thenceforth sleep. But nevertheless they laughed at him; and he was not indignant at being disbelieved in what he was about to do a little later, nor did he rebuke their laughter, so that both it, and the flutes and the cymbals and all the rest, might become a proof of the death.

For since people for the most part disbelieve miracles after they have happened, he anticipates them with their own answers; which happened with Lazarus too, and with Moses. For to Moses he says, “What is this in your hand?”, so that when he saw it become a serpent he might not forget that it was a rod before this, but, remembering his own words, might be amazed at what happened. And with Lazarus he says, “Where have you laid him?”, so that those who said, “Come and see,” and, “He stinks, for he has been dead four days,” might no longer be able to disbelieve that he raised a dead man. Seeing, then, the cymbals and the crowds, he put them all out, and works the miracle with the parents present, not bringing in another soul, but bringing back the very one that had gone out, and waking her as from sleep. And he takes her by the hand, assuring those who saw, so as to prepare the way, through sight, for faith in the resurrection. For the father said, “Lay your hand on her”; but he does something more: for he does not lay it on, but takes hold of her and raises her, showing that everything is ready to his hand. And he not only raises her, but also commands that food be given her, so that what happened might not seem an apparition. And he does not give it himself, but commands them; as with Lazarus too he said, “Unbind him and let him go,” and afterward makes him a sharer of his table. For he is always accustomed to establish both, making the proof both of the death and of the resurrection with all exactness. But do not consider only the raising, but that he also charged them to tell no one; and learn this above all from everything, freedom from pride and from vainglory; and along with this learn that too, that he put those who were beating their breasts out of the house and declared them unworthy of such a sight. [Do not, then,] go out with the flute players, but remain with Peter and John and James. For if he put those men out then, much more now. For then it was not yet clear that death had become sleep; but now this is plainer than the sun itself. “But he has not raised your little daughter now.” But he will surely raise her, and with greater glory. For that girl, having risen, died again; but yours, if she rises, remains immortal from then on. Let no one, then, beat their breast any more, nor lament, nor slander the achievement of Christ. For he has conquered death. Why then do you lament needlessly? The thing has become sleep. Why do you wail and weep? For if pagans did this, one would have to laugh at them; but when the believer behaves unseemly in these matters, what defense is there? What pardon will there be for those who act so foolishly, and that after so long a time and so clear a proof of the resurrection? But you, as though eager to increase the charge, even bring us pagan women as mourners, kindling the passion and stirring up the furnace; and you do not hear Paul saying, “What agreement has Christ with Belial? Or what portion has a believer with an unbeliever?” And the children of the pagans, who know nothing about resurrection, nevertheless find words of consolation, saying, “Bear it nobly; for what has happened cannot be undone, nor set right by laments”; and you, who hear things more philosophical and better than these, are you not ashamed to behave more unseemly than they? For we do not say, “Bear it nobly, since what has happened cannot be undone,” but, “Bear it nobly, for she will surely rise; the child is asleep and not dead; she is at rest and has not perished.” For resurrection will succeed it, and eternal life, and immortality, and the lot of angels. Do you not hear the psalm saying, “Return, my soul, to your rest, for the Lord has dealt kindly with you”? God calls the thing a kindness, and you lament? And what more would you have done if you were an enemy and foe of the dead? For if we must lament, we must lament for the devil. Let him beat his breast, let him wail, because we are journeying to greater good things. This wailing befits his wickedness, not you who are about to be crowned and to rest. For death is a calm harbor. Consider, at any rate, how full of evils the present life is; think how often you yourself have cursed the present life. For things go on to the worse; and from the beginning you were bound up in no small … “In the sweat of your face you shall eat your bread”; and, “In the world you will have tribulation.” But of the things there nothing of the kind has been said, but quite the opposite: that “pain, sorrow, and sighing have fled away”; and that “they will come from east and west and recline in the bosom of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob”; and that the things there are a spiritual bridechamber, and bright lamps, and a removal to heaven.

Why, then, do you shame the one who has departed? Why do you make the others fear and tremble at death? Why do you cause many to accuse God, as though he had done great evils? Or rather, why do you afterward invite the poor and ask priests to pray? “So that the deceased may depart into rest,” you say, “so that he may find the judge merciful.” Is it for this, then, that you lament and wail? Then you are fighting and warring against yourself, preparing a storm for yourself over the very things for which he has departed into harbors. “And what shall I do? Such is nature.” The charge does not belong to nature, nor to the sequence of things; it is we who turn everything upside down, who grow soft and betray our own nobility and make the unbelievers worse. For how shall we discourse to another about immortality? How shall we persuade the pagan, when we fear and shudder at death more than he? Many among the pagans, at any rate, though they knew nothing about immortality, put on crowns when their children had died, and went forth in white robes, so as to reap the glory of the present; but you do not stop playing the woman and beating your breast even for the sake of the glory to come. “But I have no heirs, nor successor to my property.” And which did you rather wish, that he should be heir of your goods or of heaven? Which did you desire, that he should succeed to perishable things, which he would have to leave a little later, or to things that abide and cannot be moved? You did not have him as your heir, but instead of you God has him; he did not become joint heir of his own brothers, but he became joint heir of Christ. “And to whom,” someone says, “do we leave the clothes, the houses, the slaves and the fields?” To him again, and more safely than if he were alive; for nothing prevents it. For if barbarians burn the property of the departed together with them, much more is it just for you to send his property along with the one who has died: not so that it may become ashes, as those things do, but so that it may surround him with greater glory; and if he departed a sinner, so that it may loose his sins; and if righteous, so that it may be an addition to his reward and recompense. “But you long to see him?” Then live the same life as he, and you will quickly receive that holy sight. And besides this consider that, even if you do not listen to us, you will surely be persuaded by time. But then you will have no reward; for the consolation comes from the multitude of days. But if you are willing to philosophize now, you will gain two very great things: you will free yourself from the evils in between, and you will bind on a more splendid crown from God. For bearing a calamity gently is much greater than almsgiving and the other things. Consider that the Son of God too died; and he for your sake, you for your own. And though he said, “If it is possible, let this cup pass from me,” and was grieved and in anguish, nevertheless he did not pass death by, but underwent it with great suffering. For he did not simply undergo death, but the most shameful death; and before the death, scourges; and before the scourges, reproaches and mockery and abuse; teaching you to bear all things nobly. But nevertheless, having died and laid aside the body, he took it up again with greater glory, holding out good hopes to you here too. If these things are not a fable, do not lament; if you think them trustworthy, do not weep; but if you weep, how will you be able to persuade the pagan that you believe?

“But even so what has happened still seems unbearable to you.” Then for this very reason it is not fitting to lament for him; for he has been freed from many such calamities. Do not, then, grudge him or envy him. For to ask death for oneself because of his untimely end, and to mourn him because he did not live to undergo many such things, is rather the act of one who grudges and envies. Do not think, then, that he will no longer return to the house, but that you too will go away to him a little later. Do not reckon that he no longer comes back here, but that not even these things that are seen remain as they are, but these too are transformed. For heaven and earth and sea and all things are remade, and then you will receive back your child with greater glory. And if he departed a sinner, his wickedness has come to a stop; for if God had known that he would change, he would not have snatched him away before repentance; and if he finished his life righteous, he possesses the good things in safety. From which it is clear that your tears are not of affection but of irrational passion. For if you loved the one who departed, you ought to rejoice and be glad that he has been freed from the present waves. For what more is there, tell me? What is strange and new? Do we not see the same things going round every day? Day and night, night and day; winter and summer, summer and winter, and nothing more. And these things are always the same, but the evils are strange and newer. Did you wish him, then, to draw these up every day and remain here, and be sick and mourn and fear and tremble, and endure some of the terrors and fear lest he should endure others? For you could not say this either, that one sailing this long sea could be free of despondency and cares and the other things of the kind. And besides this, consider that you did not bear an immortal child, and that if he had not died now, he would have undergone this a little later. “But I had not had my fill of him.” But you will surely enjoy him there. “But I long to see him here too.” And what prevents it? For it is possible here too, if you are sober; for the hope of the things to come is plainer than sight. And you, if he were in a palace, would never have sought to see him, hearing that he was in high esteem; but seeing that he has gone away to things much better, are you faint-hearted over a little time, and that though you have your husband in his place? “But I have no husband.” But you have a consolation, the Father of orphans and judge of widows. Hear Paul too calling this widowhood blessed, and saying, “She who is truly a widow and left alone has set her hope on the Lord.” For such a woman will appear more highly esteemed, displaying greater endurance. Do not, then, lament for that for which you are crowned, for which you demand a reward. For you have given back the deposit, if you have returned what was entrusted to you. Have no further anxiety, having laid up your possession in an inviolable treasury. And if you were to learn what the present life is and what the life to come is, and that this one is a spider’s web and a shadow, while the things there are all immovable and immortal, you would not need other words. For now the child has been freed from all change; but had he remained here, he might perhaps have remained good, and perhaps not. Or do you not see how many disown their own children? How many are compelled to keep at home children worse than those who are disowned? Considering all these things, then, let us philosophize; for so we shall please the deceased, and enjoy much praise from men, and receive from God the great rewards of endurance, and obtain the eternal good things; which may we all obtain, by the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory and the might for ever and ever. Amen.

“And as Jesus passed on from there, two blind men followed him, crying out and saying, ‘Have mercy on us, Son of David.’ And when he had come into the house, the blind men came to him; and Jesus says to them, ‘Do you believe that I am able to do this?’ They say to him, ‘Yes, Lord.’ Then he touched their eyes, saying, ‘According to your faith let it be done to you.’ And their eyes were opened.” Why does he put them off while they cry out? Here again teaching us to push away the glory that comes from the many. For since the house was near, he leads them there to heal them privately. And this is clear from his also charging them to tell no one. And this is no small accusation of the Jews: when these men, whose eyes had been put out, receive the faith from hearing alone, while those, seeing the miracles and having their sight to bear witness to what happened, do everything contrary. And see the eagerness of these men, both from their cry and from their very petition. For they did not simply come to him, but crying aloud, and putting forward nothing but mercy. And they called him Son of David, because the name seemed to be one of honor. In many places, at any rate, the prophets too called the kings whom they wished to honor and declare great by this name. And having brought them into the house, he puts a second question to them. For in many places he is eager to heal when entreated, lest anyone should think that he leaps at these miracles for love of honor; and not for this reason only, but to show that they were worthy of healing, and lest anyone should say that, if he saved by mercy alone, all ought to be saved. For his love for humankind too has a certain rule: the faith of those who are saved. And not only for these reasons does he require faith of them, but, since they had called him Son of David, leading them up to something higher and teaching them what they ought to think about him, he says, “Do you believe that I am able to do this?” He did not say, “Do you believe that I am able to entreat my Father,” or, “that I am able to pray,” but, “that I am able to do this.” What then do they say? “Yes, Lord.” They no longer call him Son of David, but fly higher and confess his lordship. And then at last he too lays his hand on them, saying, “According to your faith let it be done to you.” And he does this strengthening their faith, showing them to be sharers in the good deed, and bearing witness that their words were not flattery. For he did not say, “Let your eyes be opened,” but, “According to your faith let it be done to you”; which he says to many of those who came to him, hastening to proclaim the faith in the soul before the healing of bodies, so as both to make those men more highly esteemed and to make others more earnest. So too with the paralytic: before bracing the body, he raises the soul that lay prostrate, saying, “Take heart, child; your sins are forgiven.” And the girl, when he had raised her, he took by the hand, and by the table taught her who her benefactor was. And with the centurion he did likewise, entrusting everything to his faith. And in freeing the disciples from the storm of the sea, he first freed them from their little faith. So here too he knew the secrets of their mind even before their words; but in order to lead others too to the same zeal, he makes them manifest to the rest as well, proclaiming by the result of the healing their hidden faith. Then after the healing he commands them to tell no one; and he does not simply command it, but with great vehemence. “For Jesus sternly charged them,” it says, “saying, ‘See that no one knows.’ But they went out and spread his fame through all that district.” But they could not contain themselves, but became heralds and evangelists, and, though commanded to hide what had happened, they could not bear it. And if elsewhere he is seen saying, “Go and tell the glory of God,” that is not contrary to this, but entirely in harmony with it. For he teaches us to say nothing about ourselves, and even to prevent those who wish to praise us; but if the glory is referred to God, not only not to prevent it, but even to command it to be done. “And as they were going out,” it says, “behold, they brought to him a mute man possessed by a demon.” For the suffering was not of nature but the plotting of the demon; that is why he also needs others to bring him. For he could not entreat by himself, being speechless, nor supplicate others, since the demon had bound his tongue and fettered his soul together with his tongue. That is why he does not require faith of him either, but at once sets right the disease. “For when the demon had been cast out,” it says, “the mute man spoke; and the crowds marveled, saying, ‘Never was anything like this seen in Israel.’” This especially vexed the Pharisees, that they preferred him to all, not only to those then living but to all who had ever been; and they preferred him not because he healed, but because he healed easily and quickly, and countless diseases, and incurable ones. And the people [reacted] thus;